


What Should Not Be Forgotten

by Lavendergaia



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-09
Updated: 2015-11-09
Packaged: 2018-04-30 18:06:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5173964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lavendergaia/pseuds/Lavendergaia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not every day Jemma Simmons gets to watch someone read her first novel for the first time. </p><p>(If she thinks she would have spent five hours staring at Leo Fitz anyway, well, maybe she'll keep that to herself.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Should Not Be Forgotten

**Author's Note:**

> A response to the prompt "author of book gets seated next to someone reading their book and making entertaining faces at each scene au" by queensofmedicine on tumblr.

_“Write what should not be forgotten.”_  
_― Isabel Allende_

 

Sometimes Jemma’s favorite part of going to book signings was when the publisher would spring for first class. She wondered if that made her a bad person—it wasn’t that she didn’t like meeting lots of people that liked her book (it was quite flattering, really), but she never had time to really _meet_ them. She never got to talk to anyone or do anything other than sign a few copies and thank them for being fans. It made her miss the intimacies of the first few readings and conventions, except that back then they made her fly coach.

A young man took the aisle seat next to her when they made a quick stop in Philadelphia. She might not have paid him any mind at all except for the unmistakable Scottish accent when he pardoned himself for bumping into her leg upon sitting down, shuffling a large leather briefcase under the seat in front of him. He was rather handsome, she mused, trying to study his face without seeming like she was doing so. He was put together in a way that wasn’t traditional or generic, but still came across as incredibly pleasing.

Maybe it was his eyes, which seemed to mimic the color of the sky outside the plane as he settled in with a book. She was so taken with them that it took her a minute to realize that it was _her_ book. Pride inflated her chest and she hid her smile behind her complimentary glass of champagne. He seemed to be far enough into the novel that it wasn’t just something that he picked up at the airport, and despite the TARDIS bookmark that hung out of the pages, there were some dog-eared corners that he’d marked.

After taking a sabbatical from her life in the lab, she’d taken to writing forensic and true crime non-fiction. This book was her first foray into the world of suspense novel writing and it had gone spectacularly well, far better than even her agent and publisher had expected. Apparently, she had a knack for truly gruesome descriptions. But she had yet to actually just come across someone reading it, and it was a rather nice feeling.

Next to her, the young man seemed to speed through the book and she pretended to look at what was actually nothing on her tablet so she could look at his face over the top of the screen. It went through a variety of emotions: horror, sentimentality, humor. When he turned a particular shade of green, Jemma knew that it wasn’t because of the plane, which hadn’t hit a bit of turbulence.

As he stuck his bookmark into the pages, leaning back in his seat with his eyes closed, Jemma couldn’t bite her tongue. “Oh, don’t stop there,” she pleaded, reaching across the arm rest to lay her hand on his bicep. “You’re almost at the best part.”

He opened his eyes, startled, and stared at her. “You’ve, uh, read it then?” he said once he determined that she wasn’t about to attack him for his literary choices.

“Sort of.” She shrugged nonchalantly. “I wrote it.”

There was no emotion on his face as he looked down at her name on the front of the book, back at her face, then flipped over to see her picture on the back flap of the dust jacket. Unlike when he had been reading, his face gave nothing away as he stared at her. Squirming under the power of his gaze, she said, “Sorry?”

“No, it’s just—” He cleared his throat, taking a sip of his one free drink. “Your picture doesn’t do you justice.”

Flushing pleasantly, Jemma extended a hand to him. “I’m Jemma Simmons.”

After introducing himself as Fitz—just Fitz, please—he said, “So I should keep going then?” When she nodded eagerly, he grinned, “Gotta tell you, it’s kind of not—it’s a bit gory. I mean, it’s good, but it’s not usually my thing. My friend told me I’d like it though.”

“And you do?”

“Yeah, I do,” he said, chuckling. Flipping open the book back to the page he had been on, he said, “It’s going to get awkward if I don’t, isn’t it?”

“I’ll only be a little bit upset,” she teased. Glancing longingly out the window, she added, “And we only have the rest of the United States to fly over!”

Shaking his head indulgently, Fitz grinned. “Yeah, okay. Does it get much gorier than this?” When she hesitated in answering, he groaned. “Okay, okay, at least tell me, does the astronaut make it?”

Smiling to herself, she reached over and tapped the TARDIS bookmark, a mischievous glint in her eye. “Uh uh. Spoilers.”

Fitz licked his lips slowly before diving back into the novel. He was a quick reader, speeding through pages and facial expressions so fast that it was almost not even worth it to pretend she was checking her email rather than checking his reactions. Her heart leapt in her throat at the despair in his eyes when everything seemed hopeless, followed not far behind by the joy of triumph when the day was saved.

When Fitz finally finished, setting the book down on the tray table in front of him. Turning in his seat to face her, he said, “You’re amazing.”

She beamed brightly. “Really? You liked it, then?”

“Are you kidding?” He drew his fingers over the raised words on the cover, clearly a tactile person. “It was amazing. I don’t read a lot of fiction, don’t have time, but I really couldn’t put it down. I mean, other than when I thought I might be physically ill.”

“I’m glad I convinced you to push past it.”

“Didn’t take much convincing, really. I mean, what were you gonna do if I didn’t, throw me off the plane?” As she considered the truly devastating pouts she could manage, he eyed the cover of her book again. “Actually, I wouldn’t put it past you.” He shook his head in disbelief. “How do you think of this kind of stuff?”

She laughed, running a hand through her hair. “I’m actually a biochemist by trade. Did some work in pharmaceuticals, then forensics and as a medical examiner. My roommate is a hacker, so the computer stuff is all her. It just sort of came together.”

“Okay, but what about the part with the cat?” He paled a bit. “Please tell me that’s not based on real life.”

Biting her bottom lip eagerly, Jemma launched into an explanation. The conversation flowed for what must have been hours as they discussed her literary work and previous careers, what Fitz did (an engineer—she somehow sensed he was also scientifically minded), what they were each doing in LA (her book signing, his work conference), where they were both from (Scotland and Sheffield, but they had both settled in New York), and their favorite Doctors (she was forever Nine, he was a staunch Ten fan).

It was only once they were told to fasten their seatbelts and prepare for landing did she even realize that they had been flying for so long. After doing what they were told, Fitz drummed his fingers against the cover of the novel. “Would it be tacky of me to ask you to sign this? It would be tacky, right?”

Grinning, Jemma took the book from him and then reached into her bag for one of her many sharpies. It took her a minute to think of the inscription, and wondered why her heart was pounding so fast when she wrote it in careful script.

_Fitz,_

_We’re all stories in the end. This was a great_ _one._

_-Jemma_

His mouth hung open for a minute as he read it and when he looked at her, her heart jumped in her chest. She had a feeling her sudden sense of weightlessness had nothing to do with their descent and everything to do with the way Fitz slowly smiled at her.

After they had taxied to the gate and Fitz stood up to grab his suitcase from the overhead compartment. Making a quick decision, Jemma grabbed a spare piece of paper from her purse and jotted down her mobile phone number and the time and location of her signing in LA. She tucked it inside the front cover of her novel before shoving it back into his briefcase.

Maybe he wouldn’t see it, maybe he would see it too late, maybe it would be nothing to him.

Maybe it was worth the try.

Her signing was everything that she thought it was going to be: thousands of people, a cramped hand, a sore voice from reading and laughing and thanking everyone for coming. It was nothing that she wanted it to be. Despite how thrilled she was to see fans, to talk about future novels, to explain her writing process, she didn’t see the one face that she wanted to. One that was interesting and beautiful and she knew would haunt her narrative for years to come.

As the publishing representative escorted her out of the bookstore, she heard a voice call her name. Turning towards the source, she couldn’t help the wide smile that erupted across her face as she saw Fitz standing there. He ran a hand awkwardly through his hair, but smiled back at her. “I’m sorry I missed your reading,” he said. “Got caught up in a meeting, apparently work conferences actually mean doing work.”

“It’s alright,” she assured him, tucking her hair behind her ears. “You’ve read the book.”

“Right.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets, rocking back on his heels, but his eyes never left hers. “I was just thinking, if you wanted, maybe we could—I mean, if you have time—”

“I’m starving,” she said. “Did you maybe want to go get something to eat?”

His shoulders instantly relaxed. “Yes. Yes, definitely.”

Jemma bid goodnight to her publisher, verifying the interviews and events on the schedule tomorrow before Fitz lead her to his rental car. He opened the door for her and she settled in with a smile that wouldn’t fade, her cheeks hurting from happiness.

Apparently, she had been wrong, she thought as they immediately fell back into the easy conversation from the plane, discussing L.A. and their favorite foods and everything else that came to mind. Jemma was sure that the best part hadn’t happened yet. 


End file.
